


Father Figures

by Piper



Category: Indiana Jones (1981 1984 1989 2008), The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-16
Updated: 2010-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:50:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper/pseuds/Piper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Marion entertains old friends for dinner, Oxley ponders on Mutt's parentage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father Figures

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that's been kicking around the ol' brain for some time now. KotCS certainly wasn't my favourite Indiana Jones movie, and I still haven't seen the third Mummy movie, but I love what both franchises were before the studios and George Lucas got trigger happy. KotCS was fun, at least, once I got past the whole nuclear explosion in a fridge thing, and the movie gave us Mutt who I immediately decided needed slashing with Alex O'Connell.
> 
> This might not sound weird except for the fact that I'm generally not a fan of slash and I don't really write explicit slash. Even when I set out to write it tonight, I ended up going at it from a complete back story angle instead of jumping into it like I'd meant to. If I continue to drabble in this idea, then yes, slash is definitely coming out of it, but as they are eight and sixteen in this one, there's no slash. That would be wrong and LJ would probably snipe me. It's just the older brother admiration from Mutt that I see their relationship developing from, as seen through the eyes of Harold Oxley.
> 
> The Mummy Returns takes place in 1933 and KotCS takes place in 1957. For the purposes of this fic though, I notched up the TMR to 1937, meaning Alex was born in 1929. Mutt was born nine years later in 1938.
> 
> And now I shut up and let you read :-)

  
_ Connecticut, 1945 _

A boy needed a father figure in his life, Harold Oxley agreed with Marion Ravenwood, especially when one's father had died at such a young age. He thought it was perhaps peculiar that thinking this, she did not attempt to reach out to Henry's father at an earlier date, but the choice was hers and he said nothing disparaging of it. The politics between Marion and her former fiancé, Henry Jones the Second, were shaky at best and one might have argued that it wouldn't have been good for young Henry Jones the Third to be around two such volatile tempers. Marion certainly argued so, and seeing the hints of her own temper which always shown through when the discussion was broached, Harold chose more often than not to cease pushing the topic.

"Besides," Marion would remind him, "you're as good a surrogate father as he could ask for."

It warmed him that she would say that, but Harold refused to lie to himself. He was no substitute for Indiana Jones himself. None of the professors who wandered in an out of Marion's life were. He did what he could for the boy but he knew that Henry needed something else in his life. Eventually the young boy's enthralment with his books and engraved stones would wear away.

Marion's friends dropped in often to visit her at the Marshal College branch of the National Museum where she worked in Connecticut. Its proximity to Yale and several other institutions of secondary education brought a wide range of friendly acquaintances from around the world. More often than not they were all invited by for dinner, an invitation which Marion had made clear long ago was forever open to Harold as well. Never one to turn down a home cooked meal, the older professor made it his business to be sure he was at the Ravenwood house for dinner every Sunday he could.

That was how he came to meet the O'Connells.

The wife was pretty, smart, British, and polite. "It's an honour to meet you, Professor Oxley. Marion's told us so much about you and your work with the Mayan Pyramids. Your paper on the hieroglyphs in the _Templo Mayor_ was fascinating. I'd like to talk to you about trans-cultural diffusion if you—"

" _Evie_." The husband was tall, tanned, muscular, and Harold could see the outline of a pistol underneath his shirt when he reached up to put his hand on his wife's shoulder, obviously thinking that perhaps Harold should be allowed a word in edgewise.

" _Rick,_ " Evie O'Connell replied to her husband in the same tone.

Harold decided that propriety insisted he step in. "It's quite alright, Mr. O'Connell." He smiled at both adults and squeezed Evie's small hand in his own. "It would be a lie to say I don't appreciate someone who's read my work. I'd happy to talk diffusion with you, if you and the others don't mind the ramblings of an old man. Lord knows I've put Marion to sleep more often than not."

"Never, Oxley." The lady of the house stepped from the kitchen with a smile on her face that only grew when she saw the married couple standing in her foyer. "Rick and Evie O'Connell. It's been too long. Where's Alex? He's not still up at school, is he?"

"No, yours greeted our car at the curb and dragged him around to the backyard before we'd had the chance to get out. Something about a cap gun." Rick grinned, the approval obvious in his eyes. "You should just get him a real one, Marion. The sooner they learn, the better."

"He's seven," both women responded in tandem. They both laughed before Marion looked at Harold to add, "Alex is the O'Connell's son. He's—- oh what is it? A little less than nine years older? Henry worships him."

"Nine years," Rick confirmed. "Turned sixteen a month ago."

Marion said something about him finally being too big to be easily kidnapped by mummies and Harold had no time to ask for the story behind the joke before she was inviting them to step out onto the backyard porch where there were appetizers and wine.

As promised, Harold engaged Evie in a lively discussion concerning Mayan pyramids, hieroglyphs, and diffusion. She was rather brilliant, if he did say so himself, and the way she went on about the Egyptian pyramids made him want to brush up on his own knowledge of the subject. He could read Mayan, and that was no small feat, but the love with which she talked about everything Egyptian was so very obvious that he wanted to almost instantly retreat back to his study at Yale and re-immerse himself in the country's history.

"I should like to get back to Egypt eventually," Evie said after their near forty-five minute conversation had concluded. "It's a beautiful country, but it's been near off limits with the war."

 _If only that stopped Indiana,_ Harold couldn't help but think. The war in 1938 had been a different beast than it was now in 1945, coming so close to the end. "You'll be back in before the end of the year, mark my words. America isn't going to let this war go on much longer," he said, turning his wineglass in his hands. "Is it just you and Rick when you go, or do you bring Alex?"

"Oh, we couldn't keep him away," Evie laughed. "He's been wandering the pyramids with us since he was born. Looking back… well, let's just say that the war's been something of a blessing in that respect. An excuse to finally put him in school. Safely. He's in Massachusetts for most of the year."

"You see Marion often then?"

She shook her head, her smile softening. "When we can. Alex sees Marion and Henry more often than we do. We owe her for the school breaks and Christmases we've spent indisposed at the hands of natives and Alex has spent here." It didn't appear she was joking and Harold wondered exactly what they got up to in their daily lives.

He didn't ask. "That's why Henry was so excited to see him then," he offered instead, glancing out at the backyard where a much older Alex O'Connell demonstrated a great amount of patience as he attempted to show the seven year old Henry Williams the proper way to aim his cap gun.

"Mmhmm," Evie nodded. "It's amazing with the age difference, but they're close. Like brothers, I suppose. It's sweet, especially with Henry's father…"

"Yes," Harold said quickly to fill the gap of silence for politeness' sake. "Though I assure you, Henry's father would be appreciative of anyone who teaches his son to aim a firearm."

"Is he one of those sorts then? One of us?" she asked.

Harold nodded as he continued to watch the children play. Henry beamed as he pulled from his pocket the old Swiss army knife Harold himself had given to him as an early birthday present. It had been Indiana's at one point. Alex appeared to be the appropriate amount of impressed and sat on the grass, watching and listening as Henry pulled out each tool on the knife and explained it.

He smiled at Evie. "His father _is_ one of us," he confirmed, thinking of his friend. "Probably the best of us the world will ever see."

Marion meant well in everything she said, Harold knew, but there was little chance that she _truly_ believed he was any substitute for Indiana Jones. That person simply didn't exist.


End file.
